


I Remember You

by Marasa



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Sex, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nostalgia, Pining, Romance, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:00:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26694133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marasa/pseuds/Marasa
Summary: Kendall Roy is a paradox.He is a man who is two men at once while simultaneously being who Stewy always knew he was. He is cold and warm, dominate and submissive, a fucking liar and heartbreakingly honest.They are sitting across from each other now, and it is a paradox how they both act like they do not want each other as much as they really do.
Relationships: Stewy Hosseini/Kendall Roy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 58





	I Remember You

Kendall Roy is a paradox. 

He is a man who is two men at once while simultaneously being who Stewy always knew he was. He is cold and warm, dominate and submissive, a fucking liar and heartbreakingly honest.

They are sitting across from each other now, and it is a paradox how they both act like they do not want each other as much as they really do. 

They’re sharing a room at the Cap Rocat in Mallorca. The business is all done and the suits have disappeared on private jets to do their bidding elsewhere. They are insatiable. A private flight has been arranged for Kendall in the morning to take him back to New York where crushing responsibility awaits him. 

Kendall tells Stewy over dinner that there is space for him on the flight. They are seated outside on a stone terrace at dusk overlooking the ocean. The nearby torchlight illuminates Kendall’s profile in a deep orange of which blankets his eyes and his smile in liquid amber.

“I have to be in Amsterdam tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Kendall says it in that weird way when he wants to seem nonchalant but is much too awkward and affected to sound convincing. 

“Business,” Stewy says. “You know how it is.”

“Depends on what kind of business you’re going to be doing. Amsterdam has a vast array.”

“You let me worry about that, all right?” Stewy winks, though the thought of his typical fun churns the mussels and cod in his stomach. Maybe it’s the way Kendall sounds or how he’s looking at him like he’s trying not to. Maybe it’s the salt off the sea and the shadow of night draping itself cooly over them so all feels golden, sparkling. 

Stewy raises his wine glass. Kendall raises his too.

They do not make a formal toast but let the silence speak for them. 

It speaks for the rest of the night beneath soft-spoken conversation and their long looks and their shared private smiles. They pay the bill without looking at it, laugh over their drinks before laughing some more down the stone streets of the town-like estate. They make their way back to their shared room and the murmur crescendos as Kendall grabs hold of Stewy’s front and pulls him close so he can kiss him. He’s heated and languid as he licks into Stewy’s mouth and Stewy answers with his hands on Kendall’s waist and a slight bend of his head downward. 

Kendall’s tongue tastes like wine and lamb, and it’s kind of gross but also really delicious. Stewy unbuttons Kendall’s shirt and then his own, and the skin of Kendall’s stomach is silk. Irritation wafts over Stewy; there are times Stewy wants to hate Kendall but he can’t hate  _ him,  _ not even when he tries. 

What Stewy hates is the image of himself Kendall pushes on others. He hates the facade. He hates that Kendall has to wear it, hates that he himself has to too. It’s all a ruse and and a ramble and what the fuck ever happened to that kid that he used to smoke weed with and watch horror movies with?

They grew up, but they didn’t think it’d be like this: the irregularity, the secrecy, the dance of wanting each other but not being able to have each other outside of expensive hotel rooms. 

Stewy has sex with Kendall in part because of the pleasure, but it might be mostly for the nostalgia. 

He slips his hands under the tail of Kendall’s suit jacket so he can feel the smooth skin of Kendall’s lower back while Kendall slides his hands across Stewy’s shoulders and suddenly they’re back in college, younger, without any agency or worries. Kendall was scrawnier back then. More Bambi in the face. The first time Stewy was over him, he had felt hesitation like he was afraid the lightest touch might hurt Kendall or something.

Stewy doesn’t feel like that anymore. Instead he’s annoyed over how pathetic Kendall is because it’s a reminder of just how much he needs it and how often Stewy isn’t able to give it to him. It feels like Kendall’s going to fall apart whenever Stewy holds him like this. 

They fall out of their clothes and then onto the bed. 

Kendall wraps his legs around Stewy’s waist once Stewy is inside of him. He’s so hot— temperature hot. It makes Stewy sweat in rivulets down his back, Kendall’s breath hot where he pants open-mouthed against Stewy’s parted lips. Something flutters in Stewy’s guts and it hurts and Stewy retaliates by sticking out his tongue. He whines despite himself as Kendall licks his tongue, tugs at it lightly where he holds it between his teeth.

Stewy tucks his face into the crook of Kendall’s neck. His fingers dig into Kendall’s hips in a bruising grip.

“You’re tight, dude.”

“Yeah?” Kendall says, breathless. “Yeah, good. Yeah.” His head drops back as Stewy gives a deep thrust into him.  _ “Fuuuck.” _

They find a rhythm together. It is dictated by whines and moans and hard kissing. The movement of Stewy’s hips doesn’t let up. Kendall’s heels dig harder into his spine as he peeks his dark eyes open. Kendall watches Stewy’s face with something like deep, debauched adoration. His pupils are huge from something other than drugs and that expression he’s wearing is pure, pure something. 

_ “ _ Ken…  _ Kendall _ . _ ” _

Stewy thrusts harder once, twice. His mouth falls open as he cums and Kendall somehow manages to take him out of it by wrapping his arms around Stewy’s head and kissing his temple. Everything feels too gentle as Stewy throbs inside of him, bare, as he buries his flushed face into Kendall’s shoulder. His hips shunt forward in shuttery jabs with each aftershock of pleasure rolling through him and it’s like Stewy’s trying to lodge a piece of his heart deep where Kendall won’t be able to get rid of it.

And Kendall really is the worst because of the way he welcomes Stewy into him so completely.

“Just like that,” Kendall whispers against his ear. “Just,  _ h-ha, mmhm—“ _

Stewy sees it in Kendall’s face first. His brow twitches together. His bottom lip is fat and slick with saliva as his jaw goes slack. His cheeks are dusted a dark pink and he’s sweating, his eyes scrunched shut as he cums, untouched, all over his stomach. 

Kendall wraps his arms around Stewy’s shoulders and pulls him closer to kiss him, wet-mouthed and sloppy. Stewy kisses him just as enthusiastically, awed by Kendall’s brilliance.

“You— Ken, you— holy shit, babe.”

Stewy doesn’t mean to say that bit; it just slips out. He can feel Kendall’s delirious little smile pressed against the side of his face but it’s fleeting as Kendall’s lips part slightly to allow for shuttery, sated pants of breath to escape him. 

Stewy is a gentleman for once—though he does protest at his own softness internally—as he wipes up the cum from Kendall’s trembling lower stomach with his fingers and wipes it on the sheets at the side of the bed. They’ll clean them in the morning. Well, not them. Someone will.

Stewy wonders for a moment if they cleaning crew will know what happened here when they peel back the sheets and ball them up before exiling them to a dirty laundry hamper. They’ll have an idea surely with the smell but they won’t know the complexity of emotion Stewy feels and the confusion and the heat and how it feels like dreaded indulgence when he partakes in nights with Kendall like this.

“That was—“

“Good,” Kendall finishes for him. “Really fucking good.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Fuck you.”

“I did already. And it was amazing.”

“Shh…” Kendall runs a hand through the hair at the back of Stewy’s head and brings Stewy down to lay on his chest. 

They both become so clingy, tangled together without a millimeter of space between them. Stewy mouths anywhere he can at him as he comes down and Kendall hums, shifts slightly to allow Stewy’s mouth and tongue more access to wherever he wanders. 

Stewy licks up the droplets of sweat down the column of Kendall’s throat. It’s bitter, salty, terrible. 

It’s perfect. 

Sometimes after they fuck, Kendall will slide out of bed and hobble around, mumbling awkwardly about nothing as he gets dressed. Stewy takes this as somewhat of an indirect insult that he had not done well enough to dick Kendall down stupid. If he’s still coherent, Stewy hasn’t done his job. He needs Kendall drooling and fevered, drunk on cock, ruined. 

Kendall’s closer to that mindlessness now but this comes so much gentler. Kendall’s melted into the mattress, soft and loose. He makes no sign of leaving as he nuzzles his face against Stewy’s, inhaling deeply at his jawline. He won’t take his arms from around Stewy’s shoulders. Whenever Stewy tries to pull back, Kendall makes a faint noise like, _ “no no no.” _

And Stewy hates this. He hates how Kendall needs him right now and how sweet he is post-orgasm. Stewy hates it because it can’t be like this forever.

Maybe in another life they could have gone off into the sunset together after college and done the whole thing: had a wedding, had some babies, had a life together. But that’s not their speed. It’s not possible for them, anyway. 

Because they’re destined to grovel for crumbs fallen from Logan Roy’s table. The world to them is more of a labyrinth and that makes them the rats hankering for not so much freedom as the next treat. 

Stewy is so blatantly aware of how fleeting this warmth is beneath the sheets smelling of their fuck. He licks the spit from the corner of Kendall’s mouth, kisses his cheekbone, his forehead. Kendall gives a small smile.

“Don’t go soft on me,” he chides, sounding groggy and on the edge of sleep.

“You love it,” Stewy mumbles as he rests his chin on Kendall’s chest. “Sadist.”

_ “Mm.”  _ Kendall laughs. “Only for you.”

The night is quiet in a way that’s unnerving. Stewy hears the white noise of the air conditioner and the ocean and his and Kendall’s breath. It blares in his ears and he can’t remember hearing the little bits of mundanity, reality, when Kendall was wrapped around him like a puzzle and Stewy was inside of him like he needed to be there. 

Stewy slides slightly down Kendall. He presses his ear to Kendall’s sternum. His ribcage expands and deflates steadily beneath Stewy’s splayed fingers. Kendall’s heartbeat is a lulling bassline buzzing against the side of his face. It erases the oppressive sound of the real world and eases Stewy’s mind, if only for the time being. 

But it can’t always be like this, Stewy thinks once again like a song he can’t shake. Kendall murmurs something in his sleep just as his fingers tighten in Stewy’s hair and Stewy does not fall asleep for a while, too preoccupied by the thought of how he’ll miss this in the morning when he wakes up alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr: @marasamoon


End file.
